Sessions
by Chibs
Summary: The tentitive sequal to They Are Me
1. Sessions-1

  
At four fifteen everyday, my mother drives home from work to pick me up form home. By four thirty, were on the highway, and by four forty-eight, I'm sitting in a bland waiting room shifting uncomfortably, running my fingers through my hair, and waiting. At exactly five o'clock, I'm in my shrink's office. He doesn't make me lie down, but lets me sit in any position I want. I told him that I wanted a chair. He had one brought in for me. In this particular session, I end up sitting with one leg Indian style, and the other pulled to my chest with my arms wrapped around it.  
  
"How has your day been going Marron?" He asks in his low voice.  
  
"Fine," I reply flatly, and rest my chin on my knee.  
  
"Did you see your father today?" He asks.  
  
"Yeah," I reply. "He told me to have a good day." My therapist nods and scratches something onto his notepad. He's not a bad looking guy. In his early thirties, full head of dark tame hair, sharp keen eyes. He looks like an American movie star. Jon Cusack, or something like that.  
  
"Ah," He says. I nod. And then there is silence. It never fails to happen in my sessions. He tries not to initiate the conversations, and most times I just don't care to speak.  
  
"Goten called me today." I mention suddenly. This causes my therapist to pull his glasses off, set them on the table and look up at me.   
  
"What did he have to say?" He asks.  
  
"I didn't take his call." I reply.  
  
"Do you have a reason for doing what you did to him?" My therapist puts his glasses back on and awaits my answer.  
  
"No," I reply. 


	2. Sessions-2

"Tell me again," My therapist suggests. I push a hand back through my thick blond hair and nod.  
  
"Sure," I reply.  
  
"Who did you choose?"  
  
"Goten." I answer softly. This is one of the subjects that he tends to prod at.  
  
"Why?" He asks.  
  
"I don't know." I reply.  
  
"Why did you hurt him?" If there was one question that I hated from this man, it had to be this one. Sure, I left Goten standing in front of hundreds of people alone on an alter, but I couldn't have very well married him.  
  
"I don't know." I repeat.  
  
"Marron, we go through this bullshit everytime," My therapist said blandly. He pulled his glasses off and set them on his note pad, after a few seconds of consideration, he set that aside too. "give me a strait answer, and stop with this childish 'I don't know' crap."  
  
"I really don't know." He glares at me and goes to pick up his yellow notepad again. "I suppose, it's because I could." I say hastily. He nods, a sign for me to keep going. I began to speak again, and he holds up his hand to stop me.  
  
"Start from the beginning." He suggests. And so, I do.  
  
"Your not going to like this," I say. "But it's the truth. I really don't know why I chose Goten. Maybe it's because He seemed more secure, and less likely to go off and fuck some other girl. He was a committed guy. A guy who wanted me, and only me. I was the center of his world. Trunks..was..well..a fuck buddy to me. One that I grew to love nonetheless. But, like I said. Goten was more solid. More committed. And I soon found him out to be too committed. He wanted to marry me. And stupidly, I told him yes. My mother planned and planned, Gohan and Chi-chi even raised to money to pay half. And then the day came. So far, I hadn't minded in the least bit. But there was something about stepping out in front of all those people and letting them watch me give in to life at suck a tender age. I wasn't even out of fucking highschool, and I was getting married. Where was my honey moon supposed to be? On the play ground? So I though, fuck this, its retarded. And I left, never even stepping into the wedding dress." Getting that out felt good, right, like lifting a heavy burden from my own chest.  
  
"Go on," The therapist pushed.  
  
"I felt bad after words, even cried once or twice. But then I went out and had fun."  
  
"You mean you got drunk and had sexual intercourse with a man you didn't know?" My therapist questioned.  
  
"If that's what there calling it these days." I replied. He indicated I should continue. "And for five months I didn't see him. And it was good, it was fine. He;d call sometimes, and I'd ask my Mom to make up some lame ass excuse, and while she was doing that, I'd be in my room smoking pot or having sex. Daddy got really worried about it." I stopped when I mentioned Daddy. He was my soft spot. I idly hopped Daddy wouldn't be angry with me.  
  
"And they sent you here?" The therapist questioned.  
  
"Yep." I reply.  
  
"Why do you think your here?" He asked.  
  
I shrug in response.  
  
"Did you love Goten?" Another question that pisses me off. Before I can respond, my timer goes off. Thank God.  
  
"See you next time." Add I leave with that. It's not that I don't like my sessions, and it's not like I'm over fucking joyed when it comes to five'o clock. I don't mind. I personally think It's a waste of my time and my parent's money. Daddy thinks I should go. So I do.  
  
"How did it go?" My mother asks as I shut the door behind me.  
  
"Same as always." We walked out of the office and wait for the elevator.  
  
"What did you talk about?" She asks.  
  
"He wanted to know how I clean my guns." I reply. My mother doesn't ask anything else. I don't feel the least bit sorry for her. She wants me to show some emotion to her. Well, she can God damn well show me some too. The elevator dings, and the doors open. I always expect to see Goten or Trunks as the doors slide back. But instead, its empty. My mother steps in first, and then I do. The doors slide shut silently. And I can tell that's how the whole ride will be. My eyes watch as the numbers light up, then fade away, as the next does the same. Something I have done sense I was a child. The elevator suddenly lurches to a stop, my hand snatches onto the bar to hold steady.  
  
My mother is standing by the door, with her hand on the emergency stop button.  
  
"What are you doing!" I snap. She glares at me.  
  
"You need to get over it." She snaps at me. "I don't know what the hell you think is wrong with you, because there is nothing wrong with you. You've had a good fucking life. Your father never hit you, I never yelled at you. You get good grades, we let you do whatever the hell you want, so stop acting like a fucking victim." The elevator starts again. This time it's me who slams on the emergency stop.  
  
"I didn't want to come to these God damn things in the first fucking place!" I snap. "Daddy-" She cuts me off with a hard smack. And that was it. I couldn't speak to her anymore. I couldn't even think.  
  
"Don't you bring your Daddy into this. He may fall for your vulnerable God damn acts, but I know that's just what they are. Acts." She starts the elevator, and it reaches the bottom floor. The doors ding open to the garage and we step out. She walks quickly, and I follow quietly, my hand clasping the side of my cheek that she so violently slapped. He keys slip out of her purse, and she unlocks my door. Before she gets to the other side I call her.  
  
"Mama?" I say. She turns to me, an expression I can't read on her face. "I'm sorry Mommy." I say, truly feeling sorry for the first time in a long time. She hugs me, and I feel better. "I love you Mama." I say.  
  
"I love you too." She replies. 


	3. Sessions-3

  
I know people think I'm just some boyfriend stealing, guy hoarding, constantly fucking little girl. And in the words of Sandra Bullock, I know that people don't like people like me. I don't like people like me. You want to know the real reason that I left Goten standing at that alter? The real reason I broke his heart? Because I didn't want him to have the chance to hurt me first. So I figure, getting laid is a lot better. Sleeping around is a lot better. No one gets hurt, no stings attached. And that's what I did.  
  
I did what I wanted, when I wanted. And It felt good. At first, it felt good. But doing something like that is like smoking pot. It gets you on a high for only so long, and then BAM! Your down on your ass again. Your hurting again. And I was hurting, I still am. It's like a hot brick in your stomach that turns when you think about every single stupid thing you did while you were high, or drunk or just acting fucking stupid. And that is a lot of shit for me.  
  
Goten sent me a letter a few weeks ago. I brought it to one of my session and asked my therapist to listen to it with me. He agreed. It started out with Goten simply stating that this song was how he was feeling at the moment.  
  
"I love you," He said softly. Then he strummed his guitar, and behind him I could hear could hear a bass and a set of drums. And the song started.  
  
Never made it as a wise man   
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin'   
Tired of livin' like a blind man   
I'm sick of sight without a sense of feelin   
  
And this is how you remind me   
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
  
It's not like you to say sorry   
I was waiting on a different story   
This time I'm mistaken   
For handing you a heart worth breakin'   
  
I've been wrong, I've been down   
Been to the bottom of every bottle   
These five words in my head   
Scream "Are we having fun yet?"   
  
Yet?, Yet?, Yet?, no no   
  
It's not like you didn't know that   
I said I love you and I swear I still do   
It must have been so bad   
Cause livin' with me must have damn near killed you  
  
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
  
It's not like you to say sorry   
I was waiting on a different story   
This time I'm mistaken   
For handing you a heart worth breakin'   
  
I've been wrong, I've been down   
Been to the bottom of every bottle   
These five words in my head   
Scream "Are we having fun yet?"   
  
Yet?, Yet?, Yet?, no no   
  
Never made is as a wise man   
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing   
  
And this is how you remind me   
This is how you remind me   
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
  
It's not like you to say sorry   
I was waiting on a different story   
This time I'm mistaken   
For handing you a heart worth breakin'   
  
I've been wrong, I've been down   
Been to the bottom of every bottle   
These five words in my head   
Scream "Are we having fun yet?"   
  
Yet?, Yet?, Yet?, no no   
  
"Interesting." The therapist remarks scribbling down onto his paper. "What made you bring this today?" He asked.  
  
"My Mama thought it might be a good idea if you listened to it with me." I reply folding my hands listlessly in my lap.  
  
"You and she are speaking again?" He asks. I nod. "How did this happen?"  
  
"It just did." I reply not wanting him to know about the elevator. He nods and scribbles something down.  
  
"I said I love you and I still do." My therapist remarks in a singsong voice. I look up. "A lyric from his song." He explains. I nod. "Can you say the same for him?" He asks. I shrug, not knowing. He accepts this. "How long have you had this tape?" he asks.  
  
"Three or four weeks." I remark with an unsure shrug. The timer goes off.  
  
"Your mother isn't here today?" My therapist observes. I nod.  
  
"But I'm a big girl. I can drive." He chuckles and shuts the door behind me. The office is empty. I'm his last patient of the day. Most of the building is closed off to. The janitor, give me a smile and lets me into the elevator. At first, being alone kind of creeped me out. But you get used to it. it gives you time to think. I thought about Goten.  
  
I thought about going to see him.  
  
And I decided that I would. The ground floor garage is quiet, and my heels click in the quiet.  
  
authors note: the song is called This is how you remind me, and its from nickleback Good stuff..i suggest you download it. 


	4. Sessions-4

  
Goten still lives in that small neat apartment, and I could hear him strumming his guitar through the paper thin walls.  
  
"I've been wrong, I've been down  
to the bottom of every bottle  
These five words in my head.."  
  
His voice trailed off as I knocked. I heard the clink of his guitar being set gently on the floor. He walked toward the door, pausing a moment, the pulling it open. This time, it was he who was dry, and I who was soaking wet. I won't forget the way his eyes meant mine. And I won't forget the way he looks. Jumpsuit top curled down to the middle, wife beater covering his chest and oil smudges from the pit.  
  
"Marron." He says softly.  
  
"Hi." I say back. He moves slightly to the side, ever the gentleman, and invites me into his apartment.  
  
"Do you want a towel or something?" He asked, his voice still soft. It had been sprinkling, but I had stood outside of his complex, contemplating weather or not to go in. The rain had come down suddenly, and I still didn't have the balls to do it. Soon enough, I just wandered inside.  
  
"Yeah." I reply after a moment of hesitation. He doesn't bring up the wedding. I suppose I'll have too. Goten leaves the room, returning moments later and handing me a towel. "Thanks." I Say softly.  
  
"Yeah, sure," He replies then offers me a seat on his couch. I take it, and he sits across from me and begins to strum his guitar.  
  
"Goten I think we ought to talk about what happened." I tell him softly.  
  
"Oh?" He replies without looking up  
  
"I'm sorry." I force out the words.  
  
"That's fine." He replies, setting aside the guitar and looking up.  
  
"I'm serious." I say softly.  
  
"Don't do this." Goten says, standing and turning his back to me.  
  
"Why not!" I yell.  
  
"Because! You don't have any fucking right to waltz back into my life a screw it up! I'm just getting it all back together!" He snapped, still not turning around.  
  
"I said I was sorry!" I yell back. He turns suddenly, and there are tears falling from his face. I take a step back.  
  
"That doesn't make me feel any better. That didn't make it any easier for me to have to tell three hundred people that my wife to be had run of to fuck knows where!"  
  
"I'm sorry." It's all I can say. I take another step back, and sit down on the couch.  
  
"No," Goten says softly. He wipes at his face. "I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry."  
  
"Goten, it's okay that your angry with me." I tell him.  
  
"I'm sure you had your reasons to do what you did." He replies. Sometimes I wish he wasn't so nice. I wish he could just call me a slut, or a bitch and get it over with. But he doesn't.  
  
"Not the right ones." I say shrugging. "When did you learn to play?" I ask. he grinned.  
  
"Self taught... I could show you a few cords."  
  
"All right." I smile. Goten gently sets the guitar into my hands and show me where to place my finger tips.  
  
"There you go..now strum with the hand." He placed his hand over my, and gave a strum. A nice tune came out, then drifted off into the apartment I smiled. Goten removed the guitar from my hands, then sat next to me, and instructed me to sit between his legs. I did it, feeling a bit awkward at first, but then, he set the guitar over my laps and placed my hands in the right place. Over my hands, went his. He began to play again.  
  
"You took your coat off  
and stood in the rain  
you were always crazy like that  
and I waltzed from my window  
always felt I was outside  
looking in on you  
you were always the mysterious one  
  
With dark eyes and careless hair  
you were fashionably sensitive  
but to cool to care  
you stood in my doorway, with nothing to say  
besides some comment on the weather.."  
  
I shifted to turn to see him. He was watching me with those coal eyes. And I couldn't help it. I kissed him. His hands, set the guitar aside, and then on the small of my back. It's wasn't his normal, slow patient kiss. Or even one of his nervous kisses. But a desperate, needy kiss, one that I gave into. I pulled back slightly and struggled out of my top. Goten pulled of his wife beater, then slid his hands up my skirt. It was something he had never done before. Something I'm not sure that I liked him doing. But I let him. And then he was kissing me again, pressing hander, and nearly thrusting his tongue down my throat.  
  
later  
  
The first thing that I felt was a pair of arms around me. That was a good sign. Normally, the first thing I felt after a night that I couldn't remember was my brain sliding around in my head. The second thing that I felt were sheets. Bed sheets. And that brought it all back to me. Goten was lying beside me, his lips pressed tenderly into my back, breathing low and steady. He was asleep. I slipped out of his arms and down to the dark floor. Eventually, I found my panties, bra, socks, shoes, skirt and top along the way to Goten's living room, after throwing them on haphazardly, I left. Not leaving a note and not waking him.  
  
My little Detroit techno sat on the street alone. I climbed into it, started the car, then began to drive toward my house. The lights were no when I pulled into the driveway. The glowing numbers on the clock indicated at was just fast three in the morning. The front door pulled open and out popped my father's head.  
"Marron?" he called.  
  
"Yeah Daddy," I said. "It's me."  
  
"Jesus Chirst!" he hissed. "Where have you been!"  
  
"Sorry Daddy," I say hugging him. He helps me out of the car, then closes my door behind me, and I notice he is curiously quiet. Instead of asking what was wrong, I went inside the house, up the stares, and then dropped into bed. This time I was alone, although I wouldn't wake up that way.  



End file.
